


Growing Pains

by swimthewholeriogrande



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Disabled Character, Canon Era, Fluff and Angst, Gay Newsies, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Period Typical Attitudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-16 14:02:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16087580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swimthewholeriogrande/pseuds/swimthewholeriogrande
Summary: Crutchie reflects on being stranded less than half a mile from home.





	Growing Pains

**Author's Note:**

> I just really love Crutchie alright

Crutchie's leg always got sore when the seasons changed; it was a great trick for predicting the weather and it was sometimes nice to be relied on for even such a small thing - but he predicted it, sure, and then the bad weather would actually happen and the whole limb would lock up stubbornly and without fail.

Most of the time Crutchie could hide it by leaning a little harder on his aid than usual and keeping his face bright and smiling, but it had been real bad today. His empty bag on the way home seemed to be tipping him off balance like it was full of bricks; the muscles of his calf twitched sporadically and visibly through his skin like mad. Every spasm sent a sharp ache up to his hip and since he was walking alone, Crutchie had long since stopped smiling. 

But he could see the lodging house a little ways ahead, and if he could just get there then he could hide away in his bunk and try massage the cramps out of his leg. He half-dragged his bad foot in his haste to get to safety and rest - come on, come on, so slow -

One particularly heavy step made his crutch fly out from under him without warning. Crutchie hit the ground hard, biting his tongue and sending a white-hot bolt of agony through his whole body that started in his ankles and crept up, sinister and boundless. He swallowed back a shout and glanced around, but no one was stopping to help some crippled boy collapsed in the street and there were no other newsies around.

Like a final, devastating blow, Crutchie found himself unable to stand and shame pooled in his stomach; no one would meet his eyes. Some thick, vicious anger darkened the corners of his eyes - at the people around him, at the lodging house for being too far from his selling spot, at his useless cramping leg. In a brief, dark moment, he wished the polio had just killed him.

Jack would kill him for thinking like that, as well as for not asking for help that morning when he woke up and just knew he wasn't gonna be walking too well. Crutchie grimaced and dragged himself up, managing to limp another few steps into a doorway and then half-fall to the ground again. Could Jack really blame him for being pissed at life when life was this bad?

The street started to empty. Crutchie tried to massage his leg but it was cold and his hands hurt, and everything hurt, and for God's sake he could see the candles in the windows of the lodging house why couldn't he just get there? Why was he so slow? Now he was probably gonna get soaked, simply for being out at night and unable to run away. Or thrown in the Refuge; a full-bodied shudder ran through him at the thought.

Crutchie didn't know how long he sat there, but it was getting dark by the time he heard his name being called. Jack must have sent someone out to find him - how embarrassing. He almost didn't want to be found, but Elmer essentially fell over him and the choice was taken away.

"Crutchie!" The younger boy looked at him like he had two heads. "What are you doing out here, it's getting late, Jack's worried sick!"

Crutchie's face went hot and he knew he must be scarlet. As if to mock him further, a deadly spasm ran through the ball of his twisted foot to his calf. "I can't get up." he muttered, staring at the street. "Alright? I can't walk."

There was a long, painful pause; the last time a newsie had tried to carry Crutchie, he ended up scratched like he'd been holding a feral cat.

"I'll, I'm gonna ask Jack." Crutchie heard Elmer say, and then up and leave, and he slouched into the wall beside him with exhaustion. It was one street. It was just one street.

Jack's shadow fell over him within a minute; he must have ran. He was alone and Crutchie felt safe now to look up, even crack a half-smile.

"I can explain, Jackie." The joke fell flat at the point of its conception and both of them winced.

Jack sighed heavily and crouched down. His wide eyes were almost scared. "You's off your head." he scoffed quietly. "What if we hadn't found you?"

Crutchie perked up, indignant. "You know I've slept on the streets before. I ain't helpless."

"You ain't exactly indestructible either, genius." Jack stood again. "Can you stand?"

"No."

"Crutchie, I just have to carry you, alri-"

"No!" Crutchie slammed his fist into the cobblestones, that thick fury choking his throat. "I told you I won't do it. How'd you like it if someone said you wasn't strong enough to -" To his horror his vision began to blur with tears; Jack saw and dropped back down immediately, one rough thumb wiping them away.

"I know, pal, I know." He looked like he was feeling every bit of Crutchie's pain. "What can I do then?"

Crutchie swallowed and tightened his grip on his crutch. "Take my bag, please. And then give me room."

It took the two boys an unbearable twenty minutes to make it the twenty feet up the road to the lodging house. Every step made Crutchie's head spin with fire, stumbling every now and then and actually allowing Jack's supportive hand. Jack didn't say a word, he didn't step in any further than a few steadying grips; that simple act of acceptance made Crutchie want to really cry.

Jack said firmly that the two of them would sleep on the ground floor that night, and by that point Crutchie was so tired he didn't protest. He lay on the bunk in a haze until Jack brought down their sleep-shirts, and then got changed with slow, careful movements, scared of waking the beast that was his tortured leg. When at last Jack stepped in to work out the cramps, Crutchie felt like he'd shot up to cloud nine.

Exhausted and sore, his head dropped to Jack's shoulder, smelling plain soap and new paper. "I'll be careful now, Jackie, I promise." he murmured, and he heard a soft laugh.

"Yeah, right." Jack brushed their lips together in the lightest touch, something just for them alone, and kept easing Crutchie's pain - in every aspect of his being. "I'd feel all a'this for you, if I could. You know that? You even awake, pal?"

The silence was velvet. And then, a moment later, a sleepy whisper in the peace: "I know."

**Author's Note:**

> Look at me writing slightly happier stuff who am I


End file.
